Drabbles and Ficlets, many a challenge
by Yandoryn
Summary: Will contain yuri, yaoi, and het. Will be rated K to T. Most are drabble length though many stretch it to ficlet. Some may contain mild spoilers. Will be noted at beginning.
1. Sticky Friday Afternoon

**Title:** Sticky Friday Afternoon  
**Rating:** G, aww!  
**Word Count:** 402  
**Pairing:** WinrySciezska

It was a sleepy Friday afternoon in Rizenbul. One of those soft summer days out in the country where people lounge on the porch, drinking lemonade and sweetened iced tea. It was one of those days that you'd catch Winry Rockbell sitting outside, wearing shorts, her hair tied up and out of her face.

On those days, it was too hot to work, too hot to sleep, and definitely too hot to cuddle. It was hard enough to last inside, and outside it was hard to last long without running to a pond, watching young boys fish, or without an iced pitcher by your hand, not doing anything about the sweat, but at least quenching your thirst.

That Friday, the Rockbell Automailers were out of commission, like every business in town. The beds were stripped down to the fitted sheets; the sheets normally adorning the bed were tacked up above the open windows, blowing lightly in a stale breeze, attempting to keep the house cool with breezes, while bocking out the warm rays of sunshine.

The problem Winry had with those sleepy, sticky Friday afternoons was the fact that being held, skin on skin, was so uncomfortable. She had slipped out of bed at ten o'clock, grabbing her shorts and tube top, escaping her lover's arms.

After a kiss on the forehead, Winry ran out of the room, escaping the house in a blind attempt to reach the pond before the day began truly heating up, raining down a sweat and a misery upon the populous.

It wasn't long before she was dabbling her toes in the water, smiling when young boys caught a small perch, eyes wide at the mystifying creature flopping on the ground. They normally thew the fish back in time.

She wasn't sure when she fell asleep in the sun, but was sure well enough when she woke up, her skin feeling utterly too warm. At first, she thought she was getting a sunburn, but as she tried to roll over, she felt stuck and she heard light laughter coming from the boys.

Opening her eyes, blinking against the sunlight, she saw Sciezska, the older woman's lighter arms wrapped around her, the body warmth slightly uncomfortable.

She watched Sciezska's sleep face, closing her eyes, the pond's water lapping lightly at her toes, and decided that perhaps she could deal with a bit of discomfort.

At least for now.

* * *

**A/N** I've got some more drabbles to play with and they'll be up every twenty-four hours I am home. I'm leaving town for Thanksgiving Break Wednesday at 10:00ish but I'll probably update around 12:00AM Wednesday morning. Until after break, I can't update. I get back Sunday evening. 


	2. Loss of Control

** A/N** I'm gone for the break and I won't have my computer; however, I may still be able to get on the internet at some point and if so I'll update. Happy American Thanksgiving!

**Title:** Loss of Control  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Paninya/Lust  
**Word Count:** 572  
**Idea given by:** The Totally Promiscuous FMA Pairing Machine! (Paninya/Lust, PG or PG-13, including: food, kids, underwear)

Lust held Paninya up against the wall, two of her nails on the either side of the girl's neck. When she stepped closer, she was annoyed. The girl should have been shaking with fear or at least sweating, but she had this damn cocky smile on her face.

She was surely going to make this pickpocket quake in a moment, Lust told herself, placing her free hand on her hip as she stood right in front of Paninya.

Before, however, she could open her mouth to say anything, Paninya's grin got wider, and she abruptly said, "Do you wear underwear?"

Lust stared. "Underwear?" she asked dumbly.

"Yeah," Paninya said, rolling her eyes, shifting lightly.

"Why?" Lust asked incredulously.

"You just look like the kind of chick who wouldn't wear underwear," Paninya snickered, shifting lightly, unperturbed by the situation she was in.

Lust, still surprised by this sudden change of topics, said, "How would you know about that?"

"I'm a pickpocket," Paninya told her, rolling her eyes again. "When you're fishing for wallets, sometimes you fish for something _ i else /i _ accidentally."

Lust didn't know what to say. Whenever she had someone in this situation, they weren't so flippant, so irreverent.

"Speaking of your _abilities_," Lust began.

"Do you really think you have me cornered here?" Paninya said, interrupting Lust.

"Can't you let me speak?" Lust snapped, surprised at her loss of control.

"I'm really kind of hungry. If you want to talk, why don't we just get some food?" Paninya said, grinning. "If you buy me a piece of chicken, I'll listen to whatever you have to say. I'm just not too happy with your idea you can pin me up against this wall and think you've got me cornered. I could have blown your legs off by now."

Lust pulled back, not afraid of the girl's flippant threat, but certainly wanting to make her comfortable, get her to do what she wanted.

They walked to a food stand, one of the few not flocked by tourists. Lust, annoyed, bought Paninya some chicken.

Paninya took if from her, thanking her with a wink. "So, what do you want me to do?" she asked, chewing on the food happily.

"A State Alchemist is coming," Lust said simply. "I want you to steal his watch."

Paninya snorted, almost choking on her food. "You mean the Fullmetal Alchemist? I knew he was coming."

"How'd you know?" Lust asked, shocked not for the first time with the girl.

"Because," Paninya told her, as if talking to a kindergartner, "his reputation precedes him. He's just a kid, but he's got more money than most of the adult tourists. There's no way I'm going to not pick his pocket."

"You'd pick a kid's pocket," Lust said, grinning. "I think I like you."

Paninya grinned. "I'd do more than pick a kid's pocket."

"What do you mean by that?" Lust asked, blinking, losing her calm control over the situation.

Paninya shrugged, leaning in, kissing Lust soundly.

Lust, apparently, had completely misjudged the situation. In her shock, Paninya got an opening to grope the homunculus' ass.

"You don't," Paninya said, pulling away, again with that shit-eating grin.

"I don't what?" Lust snapped unnerved.

"Wear underwear," Paninya answered, winking at Lust and saunter away. "Don't worry though, his pocket'll get picked almost as soon as he gets here."

Lust somehow knew she could trust that promise, but wondered what the hell just happened.


	3. New Type

**Title:** New Type  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing:** Havoc/Sciezska**  
Word Count:** 308  
**Idea given by:** The Totally Promiscuous FMA Pairing Machine! (Havoc/Sciezska, PG or PG-13, including: knife, apple pie, oil)

When Roy met Sciezska, Havoc noticed two things.

First, Sciezska didn't seem phased by the Flame Alchemist. Second, and almost more importantly, Roy did _not _seem interested in Sciezska at all.

If Havoc was to keep a girlfriend, it had to be someone like that. The booksy girl wasn't really his type, but his type kept getting stolen Roy Mustang. So maybe he needed to change his type a bit. A group less fickle and swayable by a pretty face, a fancier uniform, and a higher salary.

Sciezska seemed motivated by things entirely different than that.

It took a while for her to realize he was interested in her. One day, however, she came to his office, blushing, holding a small box.

He stood up and smiled. "Hey Sciezska," he said. "What's up."

"I baked you a pie," she said. "You told me how much you liked apple pie and I had read a book recently on several apple recipes… I thought you'd like it."

Havoc smiled and took the box from her. "That's really sweet," he said quietly. "I hope it's good," Sciezska said uncertainly. "I've never made a pie before."

"I'm sure it's great," he told her.

Sciezska smiled awkwardly and brushed her hands through her hair, muttering how she had to go.

Hughes smiled up at her when she got back to Investigations. He was cleaning his knives, making sure they were in perfect condition. "I'm glad you talked to him," he said. "But we really need Case File 9854 for a trial tomorrow."

Sciezska stared and started apologizing profusely, grabbing pen and paper and starting to write immediately.

Havoc never mentioned to Sciezska that when baking an apple pie, you should use vegetable instead of olive oil, or that she used salt instead of sugar.

There are some things no one needs to know.

**A/N** Nothing like updating while checking my email. Enjoy the het while it lasts. Likely to do yaoi next and wtf, I'll be back on yuri any second. Actually, I'm sitting, drinking eggnog at 12:41 AM. Anyway, enjoy, y'all. Happy thanksgiving. (For those of you in America.)


	4. Technical Problems

**Title:** Technical Problems  
**Rating:** G, again  
**Word Count:** 469  
**Pairing:** WinrySciezska, again  
**For:** LJ's kytyngurl2.

Sciezska had read about many things. Sciezska, for instance, had read about scrub boards. Apparently, however, using a scrub board was much more difficult than any text had portrayed. 

Sighing deeply, her clumsy fingers pushed the oil-slicked clothes up and down against the grate. "Winry!" she whined. "Haven't you fixed the washing machine yet?"

Winry, however, didn't hear her. Her hands were covered with oil (and much to Sciezska's dismay, once again, her clothes were) and her eyes were shining. It was apparent to Sciezska that it was much likelier Winry had used the stuttering sound inside the machine as an excuse to take it apart.

Grandma Pinako had expressly forbid Winry from taking apart the humming machine that had inserted itself so seamlessly in their lives. Yet Winry was on her knees and elbows, slicked with grease, playing with its innards.

Standing up, holding the clothes, still stained with oil, Sciezska went over to Winry, dropping the sopping fabric in a wicker basket. "I can't do it," she said in a low voice. "Apparently having read about scrub boards isn't going to help me here."

Winry swallowed and looked up at Sciezska. "I don't think I can fix it," she admitted.

They stood there dumbly for a moment, their world shaking, just for a moment.

Wiping her oil-stained hands on her pants, Winry stood up. "Let's get the clothes to a cleaner," she said.

"And not tell Grandma?"

"Yeah," Winry answered, grinning.

"Fair enough," Sciezska said, shrugging. "But I'm driving this time."

"You always want to drive!" Winry whined, tugging on Sciezska's uniform. "You're going to get oil on that!" Sciezska snapped, slapping Winry's hand away.

Winry grinned and held her hand up, smearing oil under the brunette's eye.

Sciezska blinked, thrown for a loop.

"We're just like kids," she said after a moment.

Winry looked up at her, trying not to laugh at the black mark across her cheekbone. "How so?"

"I mean, you broke the washing machine on purpose to take it apart, we think we can do anything, we're sneaking around Grandma so we won't get caught, and now you're coloring on my face," Sciezska said. "I mean, kids in books are like that!"

"I never got a chance to be a kid in a book," Winry said, swallowing hard. "I mean, I had to sort of take care of myself after my parents died in the war.

Sciezska sighed, her arm slipping around Winry's waist.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," she whispered in Winry's ear. "Let's sleep in then run to the brook and get our feet muddy. Stay out all day and only come home, running towards the house barefoot at sunset. Eat dinner giggling, like we did something magical all day."

Winry almost cried on Sciezska's shoulder. "Thanks for understanding," she said. "Thanks."

A/N Somebunny's running back to yuri.


	5. Spoken For

**Title:** Spoken For  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing:** Al/Hughes  
**Word Count:** 702  
**Idea given by:** The Totally Promiscuous FMA Pairing Machine (Al/Hughes, PG or PG-13, including: hand, carrot, sofa)

Edward was busy yelling at Roy Mustang. So far, he had been in there for fifteen minutes.

Alphonse was not interested in being anywhere near him when he came out of that room.

He sighed, making his way to the Investigations office, knowing he should have visited much earlier.

Sciezska was scribbling away on a piece of parchment. Al stood there for a while, not sure what to say. But when she didn't look up, he hummed lightly. "Sciezska?" he asked quietly.

Sciezska sat up straight, knocked completely out of her concentration. "Wh-what?" she stammered. "Oh, hi Alphonse." She adjusted her glasses, blushing lightly.

"I was just looking for Hughes," Al said uncomfortably.

"He's supposed to be eating lunch in his office," Sciezska said. "But I think he might be hiding in the corner, using the phone."

"Thanks!" Al said. "Sorry for distracting you."

"It's okay," Sciezska mumbled, already absorbed in her work again.

Al walked over to Hughes' office and knocked on the door lightly. He heard a few muffled words and then the audible 'click' of hanging up a phone. "Who is it?" he asked.

"Alphonse Elric," Al said, shifting uncomfortably.

Hughes grinned and opened up the door. "I was hoping you'd come by!" he said, opening the door and smiling up at Al. "I just got some new pictures of Elysia in and I'm telling you, she's going to break boys' hearts when she's…"

Al cut him off, placing his leather hand on Hughes' shoulder. "I kind of need to talk to you," he said quietly.

Hughes frowned and looked at Al's expressionless face. "Alright," he said, calming down, becoming dead serious. He went back to his desk and sat in his chair, rolling a pen between his fingers.

Al attempted to sit in one of the chairs in front of Hughes' desk, but failed, being too large.

"Sit on the sofa," Hughes told him. Al went and sat on the sofa, awkwardly pressing his metal legs together.

"How do you know when you love someone?" Al asked abruptly, looking up at Hughes, certain he knew the answer.

"What—What do you mean, Alphonse?" Hughes asked, slightly shocked by the question.

"I don't have a body," Al said, shrugging, feeling embarrassed. "But I think I'm in love with someone. I don't know… if that's possible and so I know how much you love Gracia… I thought you could tell me if it was love."

Hughes pondered that for a moment. "I'm sure I could listen," he said eventually. "Tell me about this person."

Hughes pulled his sack lunch out of his desk, smiling at the tuna fish sandwich, carrots, and pretzels Gracia had packed him. She always gave him the same lunch she was going to feed his three-year-old daughter.

She claimed it was so Hughes wouldn't call and ask what Elysia was eating.

Al looked at his hand for a moment, flexing the unfeeling leather. "Well," he said slowly. "I always look forward to seeing this person. Seeing them makes me feel really happy, but also… I feel nervous around them."

Hughes nodded, chewing on his sandwich.

"Sometimes," Al said, "I feel like I wish they'd notice me, even though I know that's inane. I mean, they know I'm empty."

"That's hard," Hughes said quietly.

Al shook his head. "Easier. Because… if they did notice me and didn't know I was empty, I'd be really uncomfortable."

"Yeah, it sounds like you really like this person, Alphonse," Hughes said, setting his sandwich down. "Have you talked to them about it?"

"I don't really want to," Al stammered. "I mean, I can't really do anything about it in this body. And they're rather spoken for."

Hughes smiled sadly. "You should probably talk to them anyway.

Al didn't say anything, just thinking about his leather gloves that hadn't felt in so long. He thought about how much Hughes and Gracia had done for them. How they had helped Elysia along into the world.

"I'll tell them," Al said quietly, lying through his teeth.

He didn't want to break his relationship with Hughes. After all, he was a good friend and very spoken for.

Hughes smiled. "I'm glad I could help, Al."

**A/N **Have some yaoi in a basket.


	6. Living a Whole Life

**Title:** Living a Whole Life  
**Rating: ** G, woo!  
**Pairing:** WinrySciezska  
**Word Count:** 1,007

**A/N** Sorry it took so long to update. I've been sick. Here's a ficlet--bit longer than a drabble.

"I love you," Winry said quietly, putting Sciezska's glasses on her face.

"Love you, too," Sciezska said quietly, swallowing hard, trying not to fog her glasses with hot tears in the cold snow.

"I can empathize," Winry said, placing the back of her cold hand on Sciezska's flushed cheek. "If that helps."

Closing her eyes, letting the tears roll, Sciezska couldn't bring herself to say anything. Instead, she just let Winry hold her, comfort her. Every book told her it was easier to deal with grief at an older age, and here she was, twenty-eight.

She wondered if she could ever read again, because this hurt more than she thought she could bear. It didn't matter what age you were—losing your mother would never be easy to handle.

"She's no longer in pain," Winry said after a moment, taking Sciezska's glasses back, cleaning the salty memories off the lenses.

That's what everyone was telling Sciezska.

_She's no longer in pain.  
_

_She died gently in her sleep.  
_

_ She's in a better place now.  
_

But the doctors had said they would get better. The doctors, having read possibly more books on the subject than even she, said, in their factual knowledge that her mother _would _ get better.

How could she ever read again?

"I know that doesn't help the pain," Winry said, Sciezska's glasses dangling from her chapped fingers. "I mean, the fact that they aren't there, I guess that's what hurt the most. Knowing that I'd never get to see them again."

"I think," Sciezska said quietly, "what hurts the most is that ever fact, every doctor, every _book _ said she was getting better."

"I guess that's kind of like buying what everyone says are the best pliers in the world only to find that they don't even have spring loading," Winry said sighing.

Sciezska nodded numbly, almost glad her glasses were off, keeping the world as a dim haze. That's how it felt, anyway.

"Everyone's going to tell you how strong you were. They're going to ask you how you think you can handle this," Winry continued, stroking the small of Sciezska's back. "But they can't really help you, Shez."

"Then what can?" Sciezska mumbled, trying to stem her tears.

"Time," Winry said. "And a good book."

"I don't want a book," Sciezska snapped, pulling away, wishing this time she could see the expression on Winry's face. The blurred mute tone to the world almost made her feel guilty. All sorts of thoughts were running through her mind--_If I kept the job at the First Central Library and got enough money to keep her medicine running, would she have lived longer? If I had visited her more often, would she have lived longer? Was there _any way _ I could have made her live longer? _

"Sciezska," Winry intoned, dragging a thumb across the brunette's cheekbone, wiping away thick tears. "I told you, I can empathize."

"But you were so young," Sciezska blubbered, finding it hard to stand up.

Closing her eyes, Winry slipped her arm around Sciezska's neck, pulling her close. "Do you think that made it hurt any less?" she murmured.

"No," Sciezska admitted. "But at least you knew you couldn't have done anything about it, right?"

"You'd think that," Winry said, laughing lightly, a sad laugh, full of memories of her childhood. "But even at my age I tried to figure out what I did wrong."

"How could you have done anything wrong?" Sciezska said, blinking as Winry pulled back, replacing her glasses.

Winry shrugged and with her glasses back, Sciezska clearly saw the tears in Winry's eyes. "Win…" she murmured, taken aback, wiping them gently away.

"Sorry," Winry sniffled. "I was just thinking that we never got much of a childhood. With your mother always sick, you lived yours through books. And I decided to grow up too fast, knowing my mother wouldn't be there to comfort me in my childhood blues."

"Edward and Alphonse had to grow up as well," Sciezska said quietly.

Winry sighed, stroking the back of Sciezska's neck. "We never got much of a childhood, did we?"

"No."

"And now we have responsibilities and life and we can't replay that part of our life," Winry continued, Sciezska wiping away the liberal tears, kissing Winry's cheekbone.

"Winry," Sciezska said quietly after a moment.

"Wh-what Shez?" Winry asked, looking carefully into Sciezska's green eyes.

"I love you," she repeated.

"Love you…" Winry said, swallowing hard as Sciezska pulled her close, kissing her lightly in the graveyard.

"When I die," Sciezska said. "You aren't allowed to mope."

"Okay," Winry said sullenly.

"And you better not stop taking stuff apart."

"Okay," Winry mumbled again, annoyed.

"In fact, I'm going to specifically leave you something in my will for you to take apart after my funeral."

"By that logic," Winry answered, highly peeved, "when we get home, you better read as many books as you can get your hands on."

Sciezska laughed, trying to make the mirth sound genuine. "Win, you're right," she said quietly, kissing the blonde's forehead. "Let's go home, make hot chocolate, and read my mother's favorite book."

"She'd like that," Winry said quietly. "And I'll start a fire in the fireplace. It's cold enough."

Sciezska nodded. "She would like that. Let's sit by the fire, cuddled up in the big chair we can never sit in alone and I'll read to you, sipping hot cocoa."

"She'd definitely like that."

"No, you'd like that," Sciezska retorted.

"We'd _both _ like that," Winry said, grinning.

"Both as in you and I or both as in you and my mother?" Sciezska said, scratching her head.

"All of us," Winry sighed. "Because we all just want you to be happy and not skip another part of your life. You already missed your childhood, Shez. Let's not skip over this moment, either."

"That's why I love you," Sciezska said after a moment, silent tears running down her face, so different from the noisy, thick tears earlier.

"Why?" Winry asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Because you can empathize."


	7. Irrational Fear

**Title: **Irrational Fear  
**Rating: ** PG  
**Pairing: **WinrySciezska  
**Word Count: **188  
**Idea given by: **The Totally Promiscuous FMA Pairing Machine (WinrySciezska, PG or PG-13, including: ice cream, table, thunderstorm)

Winry shuddered lightly as a clap of thunder rolled through the house.

"The lightning isn't anywhere close," Sciezska said rationally.

"Doesn't mean I can't still get scared," Winry snapped.

Sciezska blinked. "You were scared?" she asked, looking at Winry in the candlelight.

"No!" Winry snapped. "But I could be scared if I wanted to."

Sciezska shrugged. "Okay," she said, getting up from the sofa and heading towards the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Winry asked, her voice shaky.

"I'm going to get some ice cream."

"Why?" Winry asked, watching Sciezska.

"Because I want some ice cream…?" Sciezska asked, rolling her eyes.

"You can eat it on the sofa," Winry told her. "You don't have to eat it at the kitchen table."

"You are scared," Sciezska said grinning.

"No, I'm not!" Winry snapped.

Rolling her eyes, Sciezska turned around. "Then why don't you want me to go to the kitchen."

"Because," Winry said with a grin, "I want to snuggle."

Neither of them mentioned the thunderstorm again. The irrational fear Winry was refusing to admit to put them both in a comfortable situation, snuggled up in each others arms.


	8. Warming Up

**Title:** Warming Up  
**Rating:** G again. Woo!  
**Pairing:** WinrySciezska  
**Word Count:** 451

If there was one thing Sciezska hated about Rizenbul, it was the fact that winter was cold and summer was hot. She was _sure _ she could handle a cold winter or a hot summer but not _both _. Central had been fine to her.

It was snowing outside and Winry was stoking the fire, keeping the house warm. Sciezska walked over to her, placing a hand on Winry's back, her leather gloves cold. Winry put down the poker and turned around, smiling, wrapping her arms around Sciezska's waist, burying her neck into the older woman's neck.

Maybe, just maybe, the winter would be okay.

Sciezska stroked Winry's hair lightly. "Tell me a story," Winry mumbled, warming up Sciezska's neck, earlier numb from the biting winds flecked with clumpy snow outside.

The brunette smiled, kissing the top of Winry's head. "I'm not very good at making my old stories," she said, closing her eyes, closing every gap between their body, pressing up against her. "Then tell me a book you read," Winry said in a low voice.

"Let me warm up first…" Sciezska mumbled, not wanting to move, happy just to stand like this in front of the fire.

"You can warm up while you think of a book to read," the blonde said, pulling back for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear. Winry pulled Sciezska down to the rug in front of the fire, kissing the brunette gently, placing her hand on her hip.

Sciezska kissed Winry back, not surprised when the blonde moved into her lap to get a better lock on her lips, her fingers tangled in Sciezska's hair and sweater. Pulling back for a breath, Winry mumbled, running a thumb under Sciezska's eye, "Warming up?"

"If that's how you're going to warm me up," Sciezska said lightly, "I don't think I'm going to tell you a story."

"Did you know that I love winter?" Winry said, turning to press her back against Sciezska, the older woman's arms coming around her waist, just holding her.

Sciezska nodded. "You keep telling me that," she said. "But I don't understand why. It's harder to work on metal in the winter."

"I love winter because we get these lazy moments, especially in the holidays, around the solstice," Winry yawned.

"But we get more in the summer," Sciezska protested. "We get the summer solstice holidays and we get the hot summer days where no one can work!"

"But then I don't want you to hold me."

Sciezska didn't respond, just holding Winry closer. "I think I can tell you a story now."

"I don't want a story now," Winry mumbled, closing her eyes. "Just keep holding me."

"I can do that, too."


	9. Stalker

**Title:** Stalker  
**Rating:** G  
**Pairing:** Sciezska/Hohenheim (HET! OMFG! BE PROUD OF ME!)  
**Word Count:** 406  
**Idea given by:** The Totally Promiscuous FMA Pairing Machine! (Sciezska/Hohenheim, G, including: ice cream, water, apple pie)

"Sara!" Hohenheim said, running after Winry, stomping through puddles, getting his pants wet.

Winry looked over at Sciezska, her eyes wide. "He's still following us," she whispered hoarsely. "Even through the puddles."

Sciezska nodded, swallowing hard. "Did you get the ice cream?"

"Yeah."

Hohenheim caught up to them, panting a bit. "Sara," he repeated, "why do you keep running. You've grown up so much… Don't you remember me?"

"It would be hard to remember you," Winry snapped. "As Sara was my _mother_."

Hohenheim blinked. "You're Sara's _daughter_?"

Winry nodded. "That's what you call when someone is your mother," she told him ascorbicly.

Sciezska blushed and held onto Winry's arm. "We have to get home," she told Hohenheim carefully. "Grandma's making apple pie, so she needs Uncle Cameron's vanilla ice cream."

Hohenheim took a good look at Sciezska. "I saw you at the train station," he said.

Sciezska swallowed hard, looking at Winry.

"Are you two dating?" Hohenheim asked bluntly.

"N-no!" Winry stammered, wondering where he got that idea.

Hohenheim sighed and looked at Winry and Sciezska. "Do you mean Pinako's apple pie?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah," Sciezska said, before she realized what she was telling him.

"What luck," Hohenheim said, grinning. "I was going there myself. Just in time to get some apple pie…"

Sciezska looked at Winry again. "I guess you can drive in the car with us," she said, not sure what else to say.

Winry grinned. "Yeah, come in the car."

By the time they had gotten to the house, Hohenheim was totally shaken, scared to death by Winry's driving. He shook lightly outside the house. "I think I need a drink," he said, his hands on his knees.

Winry grinned, walking past him, not perturbed at all. Sciezska, however, stopped by him. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Hohenheim grinned, looking up at Sciezska. "I am now," he said in a low voice.

Sciezska may have not had much actual experience with men, but she had read enough trashy romance novels to know what Hohenheim meant. She stared at him, not sure what to say.

Hohenheim stood up, stretching. "You're so cute," he said, smiling.

Sciezska blushed heavily. "Let's go get some apple pie," she squeaked, running her fingers through her hair.

"Yeah," Hohenheim said. "Pinako's apple pie is amazing."

Whether Hohenheim was more interested in her or in the apple pie, Sciezska couldn't tell. And she couldn't decide which she'd prefer.

**A/N** Okay, _maybe_ this counts as het.


	10. Familiar Changes

**Title:** Familiar Changes  
**Rating:** G  
**Pairing:** Paninya/Martel  
**Word Count:** 410  
**Idea given by:** The Totally Promiscuous FMA Pairing Machine (Paninya/Martel, G, including: kiss, underwear, belly button)

Martel knew that Greed felt he owned her; yet, he gave the chimera a great amount of autonomy. After all, Greed didn't want damaged property.

He had sent her to Rush Valley to talk to a dealer, but was giving her some time to enjoy the tourist spot her own way. She paused outside a shop, looking at the automail display in the window. As she turned to keep walking, a girl, someone else's purse in her hand, ran right into her.

Martel started to pick herself up off the pavement, sighing as she popped her shoulder back into place and unbent herself.

"People aren't supposed to bend like that," Paninya said, staring.

"People aren't supposed to clang like they're made of metal either," Martel said, popping her back. "Seems like some people have changed their body."

Paninya glared at her. "I probably would have died on the streets if I didn't get automail."

"And I would have most certainly died if I hadn't been changed," Martel said, shrugging.

Paninya paused. "You need to pull up your pants," she coughed eventually, wishing that thoughts of the impossible flexibility of the chimera in front of her weren't running through her head.

"Sorry if I flashed you," Martel said with a wink.

"That's a damn sexy piece of underwear," Paninya said.

Martel snickered. "Thinking about stealing it, pickpocket?"

Paninya blanched, staring at Martel, wondering how she knew that was running through her mind.

"You know, it's kind of funny that we'd run into each other," Martel said, bending her arm in a direction arms shouldn't go. "Because we have so much in common that we already know. And we just ran into each other."

"What irony," Paninya said, standing up, brushing her automail off. "We've changed our bodies in drastic ways to stay alive."

"At least people don't question that you're human," Martel said, standing up.

Paninya frowned. "You seem human enough. Wait, come here."

Martel looked at Paninya, confused. "Come here," Paninya said again. Martel walked over.

"Do you have a belly-button?" Paninya asked, slowly unbuckling Martel's belt.

"Yes!" Martel snapped, trying to redo the belt, but Paninya was already pulling her pants down to expose her toned stomach.

"Definitely human," Paninya said.

"That was just an excuse to see my underwear again," Martel said, narrowing her eyes.

Paninya grinned. "No, this is," she said, leaning forward, kissing Martel softly.

Apparently, it was a good enough excuse for both of them.


	11. Predictable

**A/N** This drabble is a pretty little introduction to Laendler (IM me if you want the link)

**Title:** Predictable  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 406

"You didn't scream," Winry said, putting her wrench down on the tool bench, wiping a bit of sweat off her face. She leaned over to look the restrained officer in the face, taking a rag to the sopping brow of her patient.

Defiant reddish-brown eyes met her jovial blue ones as Major Riza Hawkeye struggled against the restraints, testing their mettle before spitting out the piece of leather she had muffled her gasps with, now deeply marred with bite marks. "Did you really expect me to, Miss Rockbell?" she asked in an extremely placid voice for someone who just had automail surgery.

"Not really," Winry said, grinning widely. "I can normally tell the rare patient who suffers in silence." Winry prattled on then for a good fifteen minutes on how Riza should take care of her new limbs, not bothering to undo the restraints. With Edward she had to have a captive audience, and though she was sure Major Hawkeye was nothing like Ed, she wasn't taking any chances. Winry would give anything to instill a healthy sense of respect for her metal limbs into Riza so that she wouldn't wreck them so often like Ed. Winry was near the end of her lecture when she followed Riza's lidded gaze. The fingers of the major's new metal hand clacked against the palm as she looked at her neatly folded uniform and on top, her meticulously cared for pistol.

Winry stared at the gun, stopping her lecture immediately, realizing that it was unnecessary. The smooth mechanics of the pistol Riza had gotten when she joined the military were cared for with such intense love that Winry _knew_ that Riza wouldn't constantly be damaging her limbs.

The silence was almost palpable, but Riza digested it without recognition almost as easily as Winry's muted sermon. She wasn't paying attention to the details on how to clean the joints, what to do in case of nerve damage, or what to do if the metal is dented to the point it no longer moves, even though she understood innately that keeping her automail in working order would be just as important as making sure her pistol could fire. If she couldn't hold the gun, shoot the trigger, and handle the kick, how could she protect Fuhrer Mustang if need be?

But even with this compelling evidence to pay attention to the situation, it was only natural her mind was elsewhere.


	12. Preventing a War

**Title: **Preventing a War  
**Word Count: **336  
**Rating: **PG  
**Pairing: **MaesGracia

"You know I love you, right?"

Hughes turned, frowning at the serious tone. "Gracia, of course I know that," he said, looping an arm around her waist, touching her face softly. She smiled, touching his hair, following the wire frame of his glasses.

"You just don't tell me that often," she said, pressing up against him, breathing in deeply. "You're so busy lately..."

"Yeah, I've got a lot of work and you know how much time the Scar case takes up..." he intoned quietly.

Gracia nodded, pulling back a bit, placing her hand over his, swaying with him lightly to the rhythm of his slow heartbeat. "You always look so sad when you're crawling into bed," she sighed. "Even when we're like this..."

She moved her hand off of his to remove his glasses. "More stress lines on your face..." she intoned, setting the glasses on a side table. "You crawl into bed and you don't fall asleep. You stay there for a long while and listen to my breathing, trying to tell if I'm asleep or not..."

He sighed, but didn't move away, knowing she was right.

"We rarely make love anymore," she said, placing one of his hands on her hip. "Elysia asks me if you like your job still..."

"Of course I like my job," he assured it. "It's just..."

"Really hard right now," she finished. "I love you, Maes."

"I love you, too," he said softly. "More than I can even understand."

She nodded, tears in her eyes, pulling him close, squeezing him tight, knowing it must hurt. "Go tuck your daughter into bed," she said hoarsely. "I'm happy you came home for dinner tonight. I know you have to go back to work... but it means a lot to Elysia."

He nodded, kissing Gracia gently, feeling her tears on his cheek. "You weren't even this stressed when you worked that desk job during the war..."

"I know," he said, swallowing hard. "But preventing wars is just as hard as fighting them."


	13. Sublime

**Word Count:** 347  
**Rating:** PG for alluding to sex

It took me a while to figure out what was wrong, but eventually I realized. I was tired, and it was a sensation entirely unfamiliar. Maybe some distant memory provided an inkling of what it used to be like, but like most memories, it was intangible and fleeting.

I don't know what Envy did to manipulate that short alchemist into creating the Stone, but it wasn't my worry. And focusing too long on it left an odd feeling in my chest, an emotion I needed to explore, but not this moment. Right now, I just wanted to understand this fatigue, this alien ache.

The memories were liquid at first, flowing between my fingers as I grasped frantically. Flashes of tan skin, lean body against mine, wire frame of glasses cool against my cheek, hung in the periphery of my mind, but refused to solidify.

The light seemed too bright, so I rolled over, trying to keep the glinting rays out of my face.

The moment I shifted, I heard the tinkling sound of metal skittering over slate. I rubbed my eyes wearily, staring at an ornate locket. The hurt seemed immense to me; every muscle in my body seemed to complain. Still, I reached over and grabbed the locket, gasping quietly as delicate tan fingers with blunt nailed pried it open, the thin, pale fingers I was used to replaced by these foreign klutzy digits.

Memory.

The locket was full of it, scattering over the slate floor, bound into delicate strands of hair, some laying in chalk dust, the complex remains of an array.

Pure, sweet memory and aching muscles, laying on the cool slate floor of an abandoned church, bird nests in the rafters, sun coming in through the holes in the roof. My clumsy but sublimely human hands looped the chain around my neck, dull silver contrasting with dark fingers and hair. My arms complained as I swept my hair away to fasten the clasp, but it was the dull ache that reminded me of the simple and desirable elegance of the pain of humanity.  



End file.
